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Voiceless

i find it to be quite interesting that my throat – the place where Wisdom emanates from my being – is under attack.  My personal truth, these days, freely flows out of me without much rehearsal and angst. I used to have to fight to be heard, taken seriously, seen. As a wee little person, I was afraid to speak up or out against anything or anyone, no matter how obvious and insidious the injustice. For fear of being hurt, disowned, different, seen, ignored, shamed, humiliated – fuck, that’s a lot of blockage. It was much easier and safer to remain unseen, unheard, un-human. All tucked away in my larynx. The organ of self expression. The holder of secrets. Of stuffed emotions.

The more baggage/trauma that crams up sideways in our throats, clogs our ability to speak our truth without the fear of being annihilated… this blockage of energy, over time, creates disease. The thyroid slowly malfunctions – giving you, finally, what you want – shutting down the forces that keep you functioning, the proof of our aliveness, our voice. This human communication frequency- stifled. We comply to the old parameters of “allowed” existence until, one fine day, we find our voice and slowly, standing up to the shadows of the past- step into our ROAR.

Yesterday I really used my voice. By “voice” I mean put myself out there for others to see me speaking my truth. I was asked by one of my bosses to lead a group of teens and then a large group of adults, in a guided meditation. Daunting task for sure. I told him, “that hat scares the shit out of me! Let’s do it” LOL. In the next couple of days I actively resisted the urge to REHEARSE endlessly and woke on a few occasions at 4:30 am to record the words that were being channeled (to me) by one of my Spirit Guides.

I felt strong, healthy, connected and NORMAL – doing what I love. No script, just freely flowing words from my higher self and spirit help. And I did this for an audience of 30 teens and then, later that day, 60 adults. It felt amazing. I received some really great feedback. Words cannot accurately capture what I was feeling. Maybe the thawing of what was. The shattering of the old silence replaced by new possibility. I had done this many, many times before but rarely with groups this large AND never with people who didn’t sign up for it.

This morning I woke with the rawest sore throat I’ve had since being a teenager. I expected to see blood when I opened up and looked in the mirror. Nope. As a kid my throat was frequently attacked, what a shock 🙄. For me, today, this is a sign that I’m doing good work. Throat Chakra work that does not yet have a permanent residence in my physical body. My throat may protest for a while by getting sore, voice disappearing, swollen glands, dryness, etc. whatever it can throw at me so it can continue playing small. This is what’s been comfortable.

The “No pain, No gain” and heart might just apply here. Old patterns are disrupted, light shining into the dark places. Old dysfunction will be cleared. Throat issues are a reminder of what was, while creating what will NOW be.

Cleanse · human condition · intention · Manifest · presence · Uncategorized

Sunday Somethin

img_2222OH on a Sunday morning. Warmed by the Spring sun, greeted by a worn out Winter smile. I aspire to relax into each hour. Making the most of the present moment. Recalling how I’ve crawled up the backside of a landfill to create space. Enough space in my life to let the warm sun IN to thaw my soul. Sunday restores the depleted/empty caverns carved by a less than satisfying week. A less than satisfying life. Our positive reserves may have run dry, our good intentions steam rolled.

Sunday’s are meant for replenishment, for celebration. Pregnant with possibilities, resetting intentions. We remember that everything works out, falls into place, everything. Clearing, cleansing minds for the coming week. Beginning anew. The privilege of a clean slate, a refresh. In deepest gratitude, Sunday.

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For The Love of Gratitude 12/1/2018

I miss looking under rocks for cool bugs to put in our bug-house. I miss packing a thermos of hot chocolate, 3 sandwiches and grabbing a loaf of stale bread to spend quality time with the beach seagulls.  Continue reading “For The Love of Gratitude 12/1/2018”